


Except you and this (champagne kisses)

by beestill



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Public Sex, Sexual Content, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 14:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7366135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beestill/pseuds/beestill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sansa learns Jon Snow can't swim and decides it's up to her to teach him.</p><p>Smut ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Except you and this (champagne kisses)

**Author's Note:**

> This is semi-inspired by the fact that Sansa and Jon could've been Ariel and Eric in another life. Oh my heart.  
> Title is from Champagne Kisses by Jessie Ware.

Sansa doesn’t like the wine as much as Robb does.

They can only sip it on New Year’s or Christmas. Ned won’t allow them to have any more in fear of the silver platter Catelyn would put his head on. But that doesn’t keep them from having a keen interest in alcohol, especially when their parents are away.

When Ned and Cat wave their oldest off, as they speed away down the street, Robb pulls out his phone and sends out the alert. It only takes ten minutes for the house to fill up with a handful of their friends and seven for the wine rack and fridge to be raided. Robb doesn’t allow them to open anything that can’t be replaced easily, such as the bottle his parents are saving for their twenty-fifth anniversary.

Theon becomes rowdy after several glasses and beers, pinching on Jeyne Poole’s backside, and speaking loudly and crudely. Robb’s face is ruby red from the flush of his drink. He tries to remain sober as the elder brother in him keeps his cup from emptying itself but the point is moot. He has never been one to hold his liquor, no matter the annoying need of wanting to be responsible.

So Sansa figures it's best if she steers clear of anything strong. Robb is one from being drunk and the blame now falls on her. She holds the can of beer close, sipping on it meekly, trying to keep a slow pace. She doesn’t plan to drink more than two, seeing as the taste is as god-awful going down as it is coming up.

Her friends are wearing skimpy clothes as they stare at Robb’s friends with hearts in their bright eyes. Sansa thinks the tank top she put on is tiny, that it barely covers more than the bra underneath it and there is nothing that could be less modest but as Margaery Tyrell prances into the back patio, she realizes how wrong she is. Sansa feels over dressed in their presence, especially in front of Margaery. She even feels a wave of jealously as she watches the boys drag their eyes up and down Margaery’s tight body. She wishes she never invited them over, that she had been the only girl here like she usually is and the boys lick their lips at her instead.

There is only one boy that doesn’t look at her friends like raw meat and that is Jon Snow.

He stands there with a can in his hand in a pair of Salvation Army jeans that have been patched up one too many times. He comes around quite often but he doesn’t fit in, not with Robb or his group, but Robb still invites him anywhere and everywhere. Sansa wonders why Robb keeps him around all the time, why he looks so terribly sad, why he’s the only buddy of her older brother’s that she doesn’t know.

He’s a pretty, pretty boy despite the fact he looks like he’s seen the terrible world through two lifetimes with big brown eyes. Sansa wants to make him laugh. He probably has a cute laugh.

When everyone has gone home or gone inside to terrorize the pantry or passed out on the couches, Sansa is the only one left in the backyard. She’s sitting by the pool, dipping her electric blue toenails into the water and swirling the water. She doesn’t hear Jon walk up behind her.

“Can you drive?” he asks her. Sansa jumps at his voice.

She turns to look at him, unsure if this is the first time he’s spoken to her or not. “No,” she says, “I can’t drive.”

He blows out a breath of air he didn’t know he had been holding. Robb’s little sister is gorgeous with the way her hair matches the sky above them, he thinks. Black is his favorite color but he thinks he can make an exception for red, for her. “Robb said he’d drive me home but he’s not in any condition to drive. No one inside that house is.”

Sansa doesn’t know why but she looks at his shoes. They’re scuffed and ragged like he’d worn them for ages. She bets the soles wouldn’t last the walk home. “You don’t have to go. You’re welcome to stay.” She offers him.

Jon wants to be at home. He hasn’t had nearly as much to drink as his friends and being sober in a room full of drunks isn’t as fun as that Batman movie he could be watching in his room right now. He thinks over her offer, deeming his own bed comfier than the floor he’s sure he’ll have to sleep on, but when he looks into her wide eyes he’s not sure what he decided on again.

Sansa doesn’t say anything; she just pats the cement next to her in a welcoming gesture. In a fit of stumbles, Jon falls beside her and pulls off his shoes. Sansa pretends she doesn’t notice the holes in his socks that are big enough for three of his toes to fit through. He’s embarrassed enough about it with cheeks as pink as sunburn. Jon rolls his jeans up to his knees and dips his feet in the water. It's warm compared to the dropping temperature as the sun sets for the evening.

“When we were young, Robb and I used to play Little Mermaid in this pool,” Sansa breathes. She’s not sure why she’s telling him this but she doesn’t stop. “It’s weird now because he was my brother and my prince savior at the same time. Arya, our little sister, didn’t like to be saved as much I did. She liked to be the villain and she would fight Robb with pool noodles. He didn’t mind fighting for me, though. He always saved me in the end and I could get my voice back. Is that just a big brother thing?”

Jon feels like he’s lost his voice as he stutters like a fool, “I-I-I don’t have any siblings.”

“I think it is. You’d probably do the same thing if you had siblings,” She responds never mind the fact she doesn’t know anything about Jon Snow as a person.

It is quiet for a minute or two. Sansa leans back on her hands, feeling the last little bit of heat on her face. She likes the sun although it doesn’t agree with her skin in the slightest. She gets pink, not tanned. The house inside has grown considerably quiet and she can’t figure if it means everyone has left or passed out. She thinks about checking when Jon Snow lets her in on a secret.

“I can’t swim.”

“You’ve never learned?” Sansa asks, her jaw slack. Jon shakes his head, laughing. He’s not sure if it’s because of her reaction or not but he finds it hilarious. “How?”

He shrugs, “I don’t have a pool, the closest beach is several hours away, and as you learned earlier, I don’t have a car. Besides, it’s like I need it to live.”

“But you’ve been in water before, yes?” It’s hard for Sansa wrap the situation around her head.

“I do bathe, you know that, right?”

“Obviously!” She chokes out, “But lots of water, I mean.”

“Do bathtubs count?”

She stands to her feet and peers down at Jon. He’s amused with her reaction entirely too much. She tugs on his arm, trying to notice how firm it really is under her grasp. “Get up.” He looks at her confused, a smile still on his face. “Get up. We’re swimming, Jon Snow.”

“I don’t have swim trunks and I don’t wanna get my clothes wet.” He’s making up excuses, he knows this, she knows this.

“Good thing we’re skinny-dipping then.”

Jon visibly swallows and Sansa can’t keep the laugh from bubbling past her lips. She throws her head back, giggling, and Jon thinks she’s a beautiful girl like this, happy and smiling. “It’s a joke! Just jump in with your underwear on, it’s what I’m doing.”

Sansa turns around to pull her top off. She wonders if he’s watching her undress, she wants him to. She undoes the button on her shorts and lets them slide down her legs. When she’s only in her bra and panties, she turns and jumps in the pool, making a splash.

Jon feels weird without his clothes on, being naked in front of his best friend’s little sister. As the panic starts to set in that this is _Robb’s little sister_ , Sansa resurfaces and motions him to get in the water. He’s uncertain until she calls him a big chicken and says its only four feet deep where she's standing. He slides in carefully like the water is going to bite him.

Sansa grabs his arms and yanks him toward the center of the pool. “See, it’s not so bad.”

“I’m not even swimming, I’m standing.”

“Watch.” She relaxes her legs and allows her body to float to the top. Sansa kicks her legs and moves her arms in a steady pace and Jon help but stare; he had never realized how long her legs really were. She swims around him in a circle. “I’m swimming,” With her red hair fanning out beneath the water, he begins to understand why they played Little Mermaid. Sansa could’ve been Ariel in another life. She stands to her feet. “Easy enough.”

He crosses his arms, the muscles in them bulge. “Teach me.”

She puts two soft hands on his back, “Lay back and relax.” She tells him. He’s stiff as wood until she calms his nerves, “Don’t worry. I won’t let you drown.” Jon hates the feeling. There’s water in his ears and his hair is sticking to his face. But her hands are hot on his back and he can’t keep the thought of them on his cock off his mind. She pulls away from him. “Move your arms and legs.”

He does and begins to swim. Jon wants to cheer out, thank Sansa with a handful of kisses. He’s swimming, actually swimming, and it isn’t all that bad. He moves around in the pool, on his back until something blows powerfully at his side. He stands up and hollers, “What the hell was that?”

Sansa giggles, “It’s just a part of the filter system, you scaredy cat.”

Jon reaches a hand down to feel it once more. The water rushes against his hand, feeling more like a massage the second time. Sansa swims to him and stands before him, the water only coming up mid-torso. They face each other, suddenly aware of their make-shift swimsuits sticking to their skin and how much they really want each other. Jon looks at her breasts as they faintly show through her bra. He brushes a hand against one of her nipples, hard from the breeze that has picked up. Sansa bites her lip to stifle a need to moan.

He looks at her, eyebrows raised, and leans in to kiss her. Her lips are soft and uncertain and Jon muses the idea that it’s because she’s just as nervous as he is. Her breasts touch his chest as they deepen the kiss, her nipples brush against his, and his cock aches. They’re breathing heavy now, passion consuming the kiss, teeth knocking teeth. Sansa wraps her legs around his waist, grinding slowly against his cock. Jon groans at the torture of it. He wants nothing more than to lay her on the concrete and write everything he’s never said with his tongue in between her legs but he knows he won’t last. He’s sure if he sees her, legs spread and writhing at his touch, one hand in his hair and the other at her own breast, he’ll come without warning.

He has a better idea as he turns her around and faces her towards the edge of the pool, with the jet stream at her cunt. Sansa whimpers at its feel and throws her head back against Jon’s hard shoulder. Jon pulls his cock free from his underwear and without warning, pushes Sansa’s panties to her knees and slides himself inside her. He could curse himself for being so careless, for not asking first, yet as Sansa all but screams his name in utter pleasure, he feels no regret.

“Sansa,” he groans, “Sansa, you feel so good, sweet girl. So warm, so tight.”

She should feel nervous that they’re outside, that anyone could see or hear but the way his cock is pounding in and out, the way the jet is blasting at her clit, is far better than she could ever make herself feel with her own fingers late at night. She should say something, she should stop him because it’s so risky but all she can say is Jon, all she can moan is Jon, all she can feel is Jon. _Jon, Jon, Jon_.

She spreads her hands against the edge of the pool, feeling her release coming closer. Jon peppers kisses on the back of her shoulders while he uses one hand to spread the lips of her cunt and allow the stream to hit her better, the other is wrapped tightly around her middle. She feels it like dynamite in her belly when she comes. She doesn’t make a sound as all breath is knocked from her lungs. There is no air left in her as Jon’s hips slap sloppily against hers before spilling inside. He stills inside her, his chest moving hard and fast against her back.

He pulls out slowly, his cock sensitive and soft, and tugs Sansa to his warm chest. She wraps her arms around his neck and furrows her head into his neck. When they both find their breath, he whispers to her, “Thank you for teaching me to swim, Sansa.”

“You don’t know how to swim after one lesson.” She said, a big, exhausted smile covering her face. She brushed a wet ringlet from his face. “I would give you more lessons but I’m afraid they’re all going to end with you buying me dinner the next night.”

“My wallet’s crying already.”


End file.
